


come together right now (over me)

by outruntheavalanche



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Age Gap Exchange 2019, Baseball, Don't copy to another site, F/M, M/M, Multi, Porn Logic, Porn with minimal Plot, Post-Canon, Threesome - F/M/M, Working Out the Kinks With Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 19:03:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18288353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outruntheavalanche/pseuds/outruntheavalanche
Summary: It’s honestlyweirdwithout Mike on the team. That first spring, after his retirement, his absence feels like an actual physical weight across Ginny’s shoulders.





	come together right now (over me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elegantstupidity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantstupidity/gifts).



> Hello silly porn logic! Hope you enjoy this, [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/elegantstupidity/profile)[**elegantstupidity**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/elegantstupidity/)!
> 
> Ginny and Livan struggle with the transition from Mike to Livan as Ginny’s primary catcher. Naturally, the solution to all their problems is a threesome!
> 
> Beta'd by [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/izzetboilerworks/profile)[**izzetboilerworks**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/izzetboilerworks/).
> 
> Title from "Come Together," by the Beatles. Sorry, Beatles.

It’s honestly _weird_ without Mike on the team. That first spring, after his retirement, his absence feels like an actual physical weight across Ginny’s shoulders. She keeps doing this thing where she looks for him in the shadowy corners of the clubhouse, an amusing anecdote dangling on the tip of her tongue, before she remembers he won’t be there waiting to hear it.

She’s making it all sound so dramatic, like he died, but it’s just _weird_. He was such a big part of her first year in the Bigs that him not being there now makes it feel like there’s been a seismic shift in the earth beneath her feet.

Ginny has no idea how she’s going to cope without him.

 

 

“Time. _Time_!”

Livan stands up from his catcher’s crouch and pushes his mask off his face. His eyes look stormy and his brows are knotted in consternation. Ginny can see a muscle tic in his jaw and one particularly thick vein is throbbing in his forehead.

The roar of the Seattle crowd has settled into a low, insistent murmur that buzzes in her brain like insects. The thought of the crowd as shiny, black-shelled beetles or bottle-green flies makes her skin crawl. 

Ginny sighs as Livan turns and says something to the umpire before trotting out to her pitcher’s mound.

They haven’t been able to get on the same page all spring. Ginny draws back her shoulders and prepares herself for a fight. She can tell just from the look on Livan’s face that he’s jonesing for one. 

Livan tucks his helmet under his arm and lets out an irritated huff when he finally finishes the long trek from home plate to the mound. “You doing this on purpose?”

“Huh? Doing what?” Ginny asks, putting her hands on her hips, tipping her chin up in defiance. 

Ginny doesn’t think she’s going to like where this is going.

“ _This_.” Livan gestures to her right arm. “Throwing the ball all over the place. Everywhere but my glove. You trying to give me a workout? You thinking I need to lose weight?”

Ginny rolls her eyes at him. “I just don’t have it tonight,” she grumbles, scuffing her cleat in the dirt.

“Excuses,” Livan scoffs, his voice positively dripping with disdain. “No time for excuses. You gonna get it together or no?”

“If only it was that easy,” Ginny mutters under her breath. 

“You think my hearing no good either? ’Cause I heard that,” he says, narrowing his eyes at her. 

“All right, break it up.” The home plate umpire claps his hands at them like an exasperated parent. 

Livan flashes Ginny one last stormy look before he pulls his mask down over his face and follows the umpire back to home like a chastened child.

It must be so easy for Livan to bark out orders like a field general or something. And Ginny’s expected to do as she’s told, no questions asked—regardless of whether or not her golden right arm feels like cooperating.

Ginny sighs, tugs at the sleeve wrapped around her surgically reconstructed elbow, and plucks the baseball out of her mitt. She rolls it in her hand, catching her nails on the red stitching.

Livan settles back into his familiar crouch and holds out his glove, presenting himself as a solid target.

 

Things don’t really get better from there. 

Ginny and Livan mesh so poorly after that disastrous game in Seattle the front office gives her a couple starts with Stanny. That goes even worse. So much worse, in fact, that the coaching staff just sticks her back with Livan and tells them to work it out. 

The “or else” is left unsaid, but both Ginny and Livan get it, loud and clear.

It’s why Ginny finds herself standing in front of Livan’s hotel room at—she checks her watch—the asscrack of dawn on an _offday_ in Miami, of all places, for a brainstorming session.

She could be sunning herself on the beach somewhere or on the golf course with Blip or any number of things that seem a whole hell of a lot more appealing than getting chewed out by Livan for the umpteenth time, but noooo. She’s the fool who signed away her one free afternoon for the foreseeable future to “iron things out” with Livan.

Livan’s hotel room door opens and Ginny feels her jaw hit the floor.

“Lawson? What are _you_ doing here?” she asks, hesitating for just a moment—because _what_ —before leaning in to give him a quick hug.

Mike guides her into Livan’s room with a hand low on her back, nudging the door shut behind them. Livan is sitting on one of the beds, legs folded up like a pretzel, pouring over a teal binder labeled “Miami.” 

Mike ushers Ginny over to the empty bed. “I heard you two were having some problems getting on the same page,” he says, flopping onto the sagging mattress and grabbing a pillow. He tucks it under his head. “Team asked me to come in, set you two to rights.”

Livan glances up at Ginny. “He’s giving us homework,” he scoffs. He plucks a red Sharpie from a pile on his bed and starts circling things in his binder.

Ginny meanders over to the minibar and goes rooting around until she comes up with a bottle of orange juice. “I could’ve been on the beach,” she grumps, sipping the juice, bumping door to the minibar shut with her hip. “I even picked out the perfect bikini. But no, I gotta do _homework_ , like I’m back in high school.”

Ginny wanders over to Mike’s bed and nudges him aside, squeezing onto the mattress next to him. Truth be told…if she’s being honest with herself, there’s a part of her that’s thrilling to have Mike Lawson back in her life, if only for one day. Grunt work with Livan is a small price to pay.

Mike squirms a little before getting his arm behind her shoulders. “I looked over some of your video,” he says, and Livan groans. “You’re both just so _stubborn_.”

“If this ain’t the pot calling the kettle black,” Ginny teases him, poking him in his gut with her finger. 

“Never said I wasn’t stubborn either,” Mike says, giving her a wry smile.

She grins back, reaching up and tugging playfully on his beard. “Fair point.”

Livan snaps his binder shut. “Can’t look at this shit no more. It’s giving me a headache.”

“Then come over here.” Mike pats the empty spot on his right side, his left side pressed up against Ginny. 

“Don’t wanna intrude,” Livan says, sounding very much like he wants to intrude. 

Mike gives Livan an unimpressed, judgmental look and Ginny stifles a laugh behind her hand. “We’re dipping into my bag of tricks,” he tells Livan. “We’re gonna get you two back on track through…unconventional means.”

“What’re you talking about, bro?” Livan squares up, crossing his arms over his chest, trying—Ginny thinks—to look intimidating. 

She can see the uncertainty flickering behind his eyes, though, and it makes her curious. It looks a lot like vulnerability. 

Ginny has no idea if Livan’s told Mike he’s into guys or if it’s just something Mike’s sussed out on his own because he has some supernatural sixth sense or something, but she supposes it doesn’t matter. Livan is coming over to the bed and slipping in against Mike’s other side. 

“All right,” Livan mutters. “What now? How’s this gonna help?”

“We’re fostering camaraderie,” Mike points out. 

“You think us boning is gonna—”

“Don’t call it that,” Mike says. 

Livan drags his hands down over his face and muffles a shout of frustration. “The two of you get that this’s weird, right? This don’t happen on most teams,” he says. “So you don’t even know if it’ll work.”

Ginny has to admit he has a point. 

“We’ve tried everything else, though,” she points out. “Everything except this.”

Livan glares at her over Mike’s head. “We never tried this before ’cause most right-thinking people wouldn’t even bring it up!” 

“C’mon, Livan,” Mike murmurs, turning on the charm and _how does he do that_. “We’re just trying to exhaust all our options here. If you don’t wanna do it, you don’t have to. But—”

“What makes you think I don’t wanna do it?” Livan scowls, his brow knitting. “Maybe I do.”

“You’ve spent the last five, ten minutes complaining,” Ginny says.

“That don’t mean I don’t wanna,” he snaps. “But I just don’t see how it’s gonna help our little problem.”

“Camaraderie, Duarte. Camaraderie.” Mike pats Livan on his broad chest. 

She can sense the shift in moods then, as Livan’s posture almost seems to melt, the rigidity flowing out of him until he sags next to Mike on the bed. 

Livan heaves a long-suffering sigh. “All right, fine. We can try it,” he grumbles.

Ginny can feel the tension ebbing out of _her_ body as well, at Livan’s words.

“So, how do we do this,” Livan asks. “Since you’re the expert and all.”

“Well... I don’t have condoms on me ’cause I wasn’t actually expecting to get you all into bed, but there are plenty of things we could do,” Mike says. “But first, the clothes come off.”

Ginny reaches up and starts unbuttoning her blouse. When she pauses and glances up, through a curtain of curls, she sees both Mike and Livan watching her, eyes tracing the deft movements of her fingers as they work down the row of buttons. Ginny tosses her hair out of her face and flashes them a pretty smile before shrugging off her shirt. 

“Now your turn.” Ginny tosses the shirt aside and reaches behind her to unclasp her bra. 

Mike and Livan share a wordless _look_ before they tug their T-shirts over their heads and unzip their jeans. 

Ginny can hardly believe they’re really going to try this. She’s heard of teams turning to bonding exercises to bring the players closer together, but she’s never heard of a team bonding through anything like _this_. But maybe it’ll actually work. 

Maybe, after she’s seen Livan naked, after she’s tasted the sweat on his body, maybe those intimate details will help her inform the larger picture. Maybe instead of an adversary of sorts, she’ll see him as something else. A friend, perhaps. Or something more than that.

Of course, this could just as easily go careening off in the opposite direction. It could go badly, or their tastes might not mesh. It could just as easily drive them apart as it could bring them closer together. 

Livan and Mike wriggle out of their jeans and Ginny’s not entirely surprised to see they’re already half-hard, the cotton of their boxers doing nothing to hide their burgeoning arousal.

Ginny’s feeling a little warm herself. She scoots closer and leans in, greeting Mike with a smile and a light, almost teasing kiss. When she pulls back, she can see Livan with the hint of a protest on his tongue. Ginny reaches out, sliding her hand to the back of his neck, and pulls him in for a kiss too, just to see how it feels. Just to see if she likes the feel of his lips on hers. 

Ginny finds that she _does_ like it. A lot, actually.

When she sits back and gets a look at Livan, she almost laughs. He looks lust-dazed, his mouth hanging open.

“I think you killed him, Gin,” Mike says, with a laugh. Then it’s his turn to lean in and he slides his lips over Livan’s too, giving him a lingering kiss.

Ginny feels Livan’s fingers grasp at her knee, squeezing almost involuntarily, as Mike runs his teeth over his bottom lip, then wets it with his tongue. 

He’s very skilled with that tongue.

Mike breaks the kiss and pulls back, giving Livan a pat on the chest. “How you doing, Duarte? Still all in?”

“Uh,” Livan says, sounding—and looking—gobsmacked, “yeah.”

Ginny laughs and twirls a curl around her finger. “So, how’re we doing this?” 

Mike looks thoughtful, scratching at his beard. “Wanna mustache ride?” he asks, aforementioned mustache twitching in a smile.

“Mike.” Ginny rolls her eyes and whacks him in the chest. “That’s _almost_ enough to get me to change my mind.”

“Almost,” Mike quips, cheerfully. 

Ginny settles back against a mound of pillows and lets Mike direct the action. She can’t help but wonder if he’s done this before, with other people, other teammates, then pushes the thought out of her mind. 

She feels Mike settling between her thighs and Livan sliding in next to her. Mike’s breath is warm and damp, but she still gets goosebumps prickling all over when he blows lightly against her inner thigh. 

Ginny closes her eyes and rests her temple against Livan’s shoulder, letting her hand wander down his strong, tightly muscled chest. 

“You good?” Ginny murmurs at Livan, as she moves her hand lower.

“Yeah. You?” he asks.

Ginny tips her head up and grins at him. “I’m great.” 

She wraps her fingers slowly around Livan’s erection and moves her hand down his shaft, getting a feel for him, before reaching down to cup and massage his balls. Mike’s fingers slide in the wetness between her thighs and start to part her open almost delicately, like he’s peeling away the petals of a flower.

Mike’s mouth on her clit jolts her like an electric shock. His fingers are still stroking through her damp folds, his touch feather-light. She fights the urge to rock down on his finger, to chase after her pleasure impatiently. Ginny can almost hear Mike’s voice in her head, telling her to take her time, to be patient and let it come to her rather than the other way around. 

Ginny takes Livan’s cock back in her hand and rubs her thumb over his slit, smearing pre-come over the head. She works her hand over him, twisting her wrist, dragging her thumbnail along the thick vein that runs underneath. She feels Livan draw in a breath and then let it out on a long sigh, his chest pressing against her arm. 

“Good?” she asks.

“Mm, yeah,” he replies.

Ginny murmurs her approval and quickens her pace. Mike quickens his pace too, his fingers sliding deftly over and finally in. His fingers are thick, filling her almost as perfectly as his cock would, his lips are sealed around her clit, and Ginny doesn’t know how she’s going to last much longer. 

As if sensing the question on her mind, Mike carefully parts his lips and slides his fingers away from her. Ginny whines pathetically at the loss of contact and the empty ache that throbs between her thighs.

“Here I am, monopolizing your free time when the whole point of this was to help you and Livan bond,” Mike teases her. Beads of moisture cling to his beard. “Livan, get over here.” 

Livan reluctantly pulls away from her and does as Mike tells him, replacing Mike between Ginny’s lightly trembling thighs. Although a small part of her is disappointed Mike’s no longer feasting on her like she’s the best meal he’s ever tasted, she can’t help but be intrigued by Livan. He’s broader in the shoulders than Mike, and thicker, more muscular too. 

Mike takes himself in hand and pumps his fist down the length of his cock, slowly, his eyes on Livan maneuvering between Ginny’s legs. She taps him on the knee and he glances down at her.

“Yeah?”

“You can use my mouth,” she murmurs, fluttering her eyelashes up at him.

“Jesus, Gin,” Mike rasps, his voice thick with desire. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Mike moves closer and Ginny turns her head, parting her lips and welcoming him in. She teases him, flickering her tongue over him as she wraps her hand around what she can’t fit in her mouth. He tastes thick and heavy, with a twinge of salt and the faintest hint of bath soap. 

Where Mike kept his touch light and delicate, teasing her almost mercilessly before rewarding her with his tongue and fingers, Livan dives right in. He parts her open and presses his tongue as deep inside as he can go, thrusting and licking and devouring. 

When she feels the barest scrape of Livan’s teeth on her skin, Ginny inadvertently scrapes Mike with her own teeth and feels the slightest bit guilty when he jerks against her. She pats him on the knee in apology.

They’re both so different. Mike is deliberate and patient with her, while Livan is insistent, enthusiastic, demanding. They’re both so different in every facet of their personality, and yet… 

Livan slides two fingers into her and Ginny parts her lips, crying out, her hips stuttering. All the thoughts fly out of her head, spiral somewhere into the stratosphere. She feels Mike laughing, barely makes out the low rumble of it through the rushing of blood in her ears. 

“He’s good at his job,” Mike mumbles, sounding amused. 

Ginny _hmph_ s in agreement. She can’t exactly string together coherent sentences at the moment.

Livan’s fingers crook inside her and Ginny feels something warm and liquid tightening in her belly.

Absurdly, Ginny thinks _curveball_. Livan adds a third finger and she thinks _slider_. 

She can’t help it, she starts laughing. Of all the things to be thinking about during sex, of course she’s thinking about baseball. 

Ginny can feel the liquid heat coalescing deep inside her before her brain catches up. Her pulse throbs between her legs, against Livan’s fingers and mouth, She can feel Mike throbbing and twitching against her tongue too, close to his own release. Distantly, through a cobwebby haze, Ginny wonders about Livan and decides that she’ll take care of him. It’s what they do for one another on the diamond, isn’t it? Livan’s got her back and she’s got Livan’s.

Suddenly, stars burst behind her eyelids, and everything is so hot and loud and _right_. Ginny arches her back off the mattress, her mouth dropping open in a silent shout. Livan chases after her with his mouth and his fingers, stoking the flames, stroking the orgasm out of her. He works her over so good she feels like it’s never going to end, she’s just going to keep coming and coming until she bursts into flames.

Finally, after what seems like hours, Ginny wrings out the last of her orgasm and she flops back onto the sweat-damp sheets. She’s vaguely aware of Livan moving from between her legs, but she can’t even lift her head off the mattress to see. 

There’s a pleasant hum in her head, and it feels like she’s floating on a cloud. 

Ginny senses some movement next to her and she slits her eyes. Mike has a hold of Livan’s cock, and he’s pumping his fist up and down his shaft, while he works himself over with his other hand. 

Ginny stirs slightly, before getting sucked back into a pleasant, sex-sated haze. 

A short while later, Mike and Livan collapse back onto the mattress on either side of Ginny, cocooning her. 

“Think that helped?” Mike mumbles, tucking himself into Ginny’s side.

Ginny weighs the question in her mind, as best she can. “Hm. Yeah.”

Livan drapes an arm over her waist. He settles next to her and yawns behind his fist. “Think so too.”

Ginny lets sleep claim her, sinking into the warmth of their embrace, feeling sheltered, feeling safe.

 

A few days later, Ginny drops next to Livan on the clubhouse couch while he plays some sort of car racing video game. She rolls her eyes when he pretends not to notice her.

“Hey. Earth to Duarte.” Ginny puts her feet in his lap. 

“Pest,” Livan mutters good-naturedly, pushing her legs away. “You need something?”

“I think we need to go over the game plan with Lawson,” Ginny says, offering Livan a sweet smile.

He narrows his eyes. “You do?”

“Mike’s waiting for us in the trainer’s office,” she says.

“He is, is he?” Livan pauses his video game and puts the remote aside.

“Yep.” Ginny’s smirk widens into a grin. She twirls a curl around her index finger.

“All right, then,” he says. “Let’s go.”


End file.
